


With or Without You

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders mixes a potion to separate himself from Justice in order to allow his friend to go back to the Fade. Things don't always go according to plan however, and now Anders and Justice both have to deal with what happens when a Fade spirit gains a body and human emotions.</p><p>Written in response to the kink meme prompt here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/11381.html?thread=49351029#t49351029</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a quick break from writing Ascension. This whole piece will be posted in the next day or two, and more Ascension is to come, for those who are reading. Thanks, as always guys, for sticking with me. :)

_"Just mix it up and boom. Justice and I are free."_

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. Anders read the book, gathered the ingredients (or rather, had Hawke help him gather the ingredients) and mixed the potion. He doused the lanterns and locked his doors, informing Lirene that he would need about a week's worth of recovery for a spell he was performing. She told him to take care of himself. Hawke, of course, wanted to be told when he was doing it, but Anders was sure that he would interfere somehow. While vehemently pro-mage, Hawke had no concept of magic, being a hard-headed fighter who would sooner hit something with a sword or a mace than try to understand it. It had taken years, but Anders found himself deep in conversation with him on a weekly basis about magical theory, and Hawke was now starting to understand that everything wasn't all lightning bolts and fireballs.

"Here goes nothing," Anders whispered to the semi-darkness. He downed the potion, wincing at the taste.

There was an intense, horrible tearing pain in his chest. The potion burned in his belly and he bent double, the glass slipping from his hand, shattering on the ground. He grabbed his stomach, a violent twisting nausea gripping him and he started to sweat. He retched, heaving, but nothing came up, and he prayed to the Maker, the Creators, the Old Gods, anyone to make it stop. He couldn't think of a single thing with which to compare the biting, stabbing ache. Not even his years in the Circle being punished by templars, or his trips up the Wounded Coast with Hawke getting attacked by giant spiders and slavers and bandits. His limbs went numb and his vision swam. This…

This was agony.

He prayed for death. And blacked out.

-

He opened his eyes slowly, his entire body feeling broken and sore, like he'd tumbled from the highest window of Kinloch Hold. He groaned, hand to his forehead, the sound too loud inside his own brain. His chest still felt like it was on fire, but nowhere near as intense as it had been. Panting with the effort of simpling waking, he sat up slowly, looking around, head pounding. His clinic looked exactly the same. It was still dark, moonlight streaming through the thin hangings over the high windows. He hoped only a few minutes passed, but it might have been a full day. Or several hours. He wasn't sure. The only clock in the clinic kept time badly, and he based his days around clinic duties, Hawke duties, food (sometimes) and sleep (even rarer than food).

A sound through the darkness, someone else groaned, and Anders panicked. Who was here? Did someone break in? But the doors were still shut. He pulled his legs in, ducked behind one of the tables. If it was a thief or an assassin, Coterie or Carta, he was at least well-hidden for now. His staff was several feet away, tucked behind the makeshift walls he used to separate a sort of bedroom-slash-office. He didn't think he would've needed it, locked as the clinic was.

"I… I am in need of assistance."

That voice. He knew that voice. He'd spent months with that voice. More accurately, the owner of that voice. It was a voice he still heard sometimes, late at night or early in the morning hours as he tried to sleep. Though they lost the ability to converse, he heard his thoughts sometimes with that tone, that cadence. He stood shakily, glancing over the table, hands sprawled on the wooden surface to keep his balance.

"Justice?"

But the man on the floor wasn't a rotting corpse with the sunken face of Kristoff, the Grey Warden Justice took over when he was lost outside the Fade. Nor was he incorporeal, a wisp of a spirit like he was in the Fade, wearing full plate armor. In fact, Anders noticed belatedly, the man was completely naked. And completely gorgeous. Anders shoved this second fact quickly to the back of his mind and took off his coat, stepping around the table to wrap the man in it. It was too small, of course, for Justice's broad, muscled shoulders. And there wasn't a bit of him that wasn't muscled, from his chest to his biceps, the slip of a taut arse Anders glimpsed, to his thick thighs and calves.

"Anders?" Justice turned to look at him, blinking.

Anders let out a breath. Maker, he was… handsome. Not in the way Hawke was handsome, like a barbarian warrior with his full beard and shaggy hair. Justice was almost ethereal, a golden aura glowing softly. His shoulder-length blond hair was slightly curly, his chiseled jaw covered in dark stubble, and his eyes, even in the dim light, were bluer than the Amaranthine Ocean.

"Are you all right?" Anders asked, his Healer's instincts kicking in, hand on Justice's shoulder.

"I… think so. Where am I?"

"The clinic," Anders said, feeling odd. Justice was here, the potion worked. But not exactly how it was supposed to. "We… I separated us. Using a potion. But you were supposed to return to the Fade. I wanted to free you."

"Free me?" Justice asked, frowning. He looked hurt. "You wanted to separate us? But we agreed…"

Anders' heart broke a little. "It's not like that, Justice. I wanted you to be able to go home. I thought… this was best. I didn't want to hurt you. I was corrupting you with my anger. You were turning into a demon."

"I am no demon," Justice growled. "I had a purpose! I took your anger so you could focus, so you could concentrate on our goal! And you… you threw that away!"

"No! No, I didn't. I was worried. I was… Oh Maker, I don't know how to explain it. I wanted what was best for you. I never wanted this. How… how did this even happen?" He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the tie from it. "Here. Come off the floor. We have a lot to talk about. And… Ah. I think I should find you some clothes."

Justice nodded, accepting the hand up. "Yes. Let us talk."


	2. Chapter 2

Anders found a pair of trousers that Hawke left behind. Not his own, but torn ones they found in an old crate somewhere. He was going to eventually use them to make bandages, but never got around to it. They fit Justice in the waist at least, if not in the leg. Anders cut slits up the calves to make them fit better, and he pinned a sheet for a makeshift tunic. It looked ridiculous, but Justice didn't seem to care, sitting on Anders' cot, cupping a steaming mug of tea between his hands. Anders cared though. Justice was distracting, and he watched him breathe, sip, the bob of his throat, his tongue darting out as he licked his lips. Anders turned away, sitting at his rickety desk, barely a foot apart.

"The spell should have worked the way I intended. But something must have gone wrong. Or maybe we were too intertwined to begin with."

"I still don't quite understand why you wanted to separate us. Are you giving up on our goal?" Justice asked, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

Anders sighed. "No. No, I'm not. I meant what I said, just that I wanted you to be able to return to the Fade. It's nothing to do with giving up."

"I thought we were good together. Stronger. I told you what I thought would happen when we joined. We both agreed. Was it wrong?"

"No." Maker, this was hard. It was akin to breaking up with someone in a way, explaining why they had to go their separate paths. And had Justice gone to the Fade, they would have. Anders touched his chest. It felt empty, raw. "It wasn't wrong. Maybe it was," he corrected quickly. "I don't regret it," he added, because Justice looked so crestfallen. He sipped his own tea, sitting back in his chair. "You're human now."

"I'm not sure." Justice held up an arm, the sheet draped around him falling from his shoulders. He looked down at his own body. "I am not possessing a body."

"No, there was no one to possess," Anders agreed. And he would've noticed someone who looked like _that_ walking around Darktown. "When you came out of the Fade, Kristoff's body was the path of least resistance. He had no conscience, no ability to say yes or no. The body you have, it's living, breathing. Right?"

"I believe so."

Anders took another sip of tea and stood up. "Let me take a look at you. Examine you. Medically." Maker, this was awkward.

"Yes, all right." The sheet removed, Justice stood as well, nearly a full head taller than Anders. He would be impossible to hide anywhere.

Anders remained as clinical as possible as he examined Justice, the way he would any other patient who came to see him. His heartbeat was strong, lungs clear, blood – which he took with apologies – tested with no abnormalities. The only thing that seemed odd to Anders was the golden aura, which pulsed and dimmed, and sometimes disappeared completely.

"I wonder if you have any magical abilities."

"I don't think I do."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

Justice smiled, and Anders felt his heart skip a beat. "Because I know you do. I have felt what it's like to cast magic, to heal." He held out a hand, palm up. "The gentle caress of a healer's touch." He held out his other hand. "Or the fiery attack of a man defending his friends in battle."

"I… that's…" Beautiful. Poetic. Anders had only ever heard one other person speak about magic that way, and he'd driven a knife into his heart years ago. Another painful memory he pushed away and buried deep. "Well I suppose it's for the best, considering the templars."

Justice balled his hands into fists, Anders watched a vein in his forearm pulse, and without thinking, he laid a hand against it, looking up at him.

"Templars," Justice ground out.

"Justice… we can still continue. With our mission, I mean. I never had any intention of stopping. There's so much work to be done, but if you would stay with me… I can't promise you a normal life."

"Normal," Justice repeated, frowning. "Normal is with you."

Anders smiled at the almost naïve declaration. "No, I promise you, my life is as far from normal as it is possible to be." He sighed, feeling drained and exhausted. "All right," he said, as if he'd decided, "you'll… stay with me. Unless you decide to go."

"Where would I go?"

Where indeed, Anders wondered. "Tomorrow I'll see if I can find you some proper clothes that fit. And shoes."

"Would it be presumptuous to ask you for a weapon?"

"No, not at all. I'm sure Hawke has extra swords lying around."

"Hawke," Justice said flatly.

Anders crossed his arms. "Yes. Hawke."

"He is a distraction."

"I thought you would say that," Anders said, squeezing past Justice to the cot, rearranging the blankets. He paused. The cot was barely large enough for himself. Where would Justice sleep?

"You… look pensive. What's wrong?" Justice was frowning again, looking dejected. "I used to see your thoughts, how you felt. Now I can't. I can't hear you."

Anders wasn't sure how to feel about _that_. It was one thing to share your body, mind, and soul with a spirit you couldn't exactly talk to. It was another to have that same spirit here and lamenting the loss of it. He felt guilty for taking that from Justice. But didn't he also take it from himself as well? The empty ache in his chest was there. It felt like he lost someone, like the death of a friend. But Justice wasn't dead. He was here, alive, and very, very close. Too close.

"Justice, step back please."

"…Apologies." Justice took a step away.

"I'm too exhausted right now to think straight."

"We normally work on the manifesto at this time. Unless Hawke has us doing something else, diverting our attention."

" _Most_ of the things Hawke has us do is for the betterment of Kirkwall. Righting wrongs in the city."

Justice nodded in slight approval. "I suppose, yes. Still, it is not our original intended goal."

Maker, he was the same Justice that Anders remembered from years ago with the Wardens. "Do you think you need sleep?"

"I am not feeling any fatigue as I recognized when I was inside you."

Anders was glad for the dim light of the clinic. The way Justice said that, the implications, and the thoughts it spurred on caused him to blush furiously. "I'm going to sleep then. I… you can read?"

Justice nodded.

Anders let a spark of fire fly from his fingertip to the candle on the desk. "There's a pile of books there, magical theory, though they're awfully dry. Some novels." He yawned widely. "I just need a few hours, all right?"

"Yes, all right. Sleep well."

Anders smiled and pulled off his boots, sliding into bed. "Tomorrow, I'll find you clothes and a weapon," he promised, and dropped off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Anders woke the next morning to find Justice asleep, head down on the desk. He yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes and rolled out of the cot. He felt guilty. Justice likely never had to deal with exhaustion. A corpse didn't have to sleep, after all, and when they were a part of one another, it was Anders who slept. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Justice's neck, carefully running his fingers up through his soft blond curls.

"I am awake," Justice muttered, and sat up slowly. He yawned widely. "Sleep is… I saw the Fade. But I couldn't control it the way I used to."

He looked so very cute when he pouted. Though Anders doubted he would be thanked for saying so. "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you, Justice. We'll get through it, though." He sat down again to pull his boots on. "I'll head to Hawke's to ask about clothes. You're a bit bigger… ah, broad- larger-" Maker's breath! "-than he is," Anders finished quickly. "But there should be something that will fit. And proper boots." Maybe Orana would have made extra breakfast as well, as she often did. As a corpse, Justice never ate. Perhaps now that he had the same pitfalls as a regular human – if he grew tired, he would grow hungry as well – he would understand better what Anders was dealing with before their separation.

He pulled on his coat, though left his staff, grateful for Hawke's basement hatch so close to his clinic. He was nearly to the doors when he realized Justice followed him across the room.

"Perhaps you ought to stay here?" Anders asked, turning to look at him. He hadn't replaced the pseudo-shirt made from the sheet, and Anders had to drag his eyes away from Justice's chest, which he saw clearly now in the daylight, a light dusting of hair over the pectorals. A darker line led from his navel downward, and Anders forced himself to think extremely unsexy thoughts before he started to blush again.

"Oh."

"…You're worse than Merrill with that kicked puppy look."

"I would never kick a puppy."

Anders laughed. "No, it's a phrase. It means you look sad."

"If you left, I would be… sad," Justice said, unsure if that was the right word. "I would prefer to come with you."

Anders wasn't sure how he would explain a shirtless spirit of the Fade to Hawke. But then again, perhaps he would understand. After all, he did tell him about the potion, about how he was going to try to separate them. But he didn't tell Hawke when, and he was certain his friend would be a bit put out that he wasn't notified. Justice was hovering again, barely an inch away from him, and Anders found it distracting.

"All right. But don't… start a fight or anything with Hawke. He's a good man."

Anders unlocked the door and peered out, making sure the landing was clear.

"If there are any templars," Justice said, lips close enough to Anders' ear that he could feel his breath, "I will kill them."

Anders let out a shaking laugh. "Right. Well. Come on."

-

Bodahn met them in the kitchen, thankfully saying nothing about the large, shirtless warrior standing behind Anders, slightly too close for comfort, but it was only because he was too proper. Anders saw him glance at Justice several times in their conversation.

"And you're sure Leandra's gone?" Anders asked.

"Yes," Bodahn said, "she left this morning for Gamlen's on her weekly visit. Messere Hawke is still asleep, but should be waking soon. Should we set another plate for breakfast? …Or, er, two?" he corrected.

"Yes, please, Bodahn. And… a shirt for my friend, if there's one to be found?"

"Very good, messere," he said with a bow and left.

"…That dwarf bowed to you."

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. He recalled a conversation from years ago with Justice about this very thing. He and Nathaniel tried to explain it, and he wasn't sure Justice quite grasped the concept. "It's part of his job. And I'd prefer it if he didn't bow." He led Justice into the dining room, taking his usual seat – and it was a testament to how often Hawke tried (and succeeded) to get him to eat there that he had a usual seat. He pulled the chair next to him out and patted it.

Justice sat, looking slightly awkward in such an ornate hall and plush chair without a shirt. Then again, Anders joined Hawke for dinner in his patched and stained clothing and no one said anything. The door opened and Anders looked up hopefully, but it wasn't Hawke. Sandal came in, carrying a shirt.

"Sandal," Anders breathed. "Thank you, you're a life-saver."

"For your friend!" Sandal declared cheerfully, handing the shirt to Justice.

"I thank you," Justice said seriously as he took it.

"Your friend glows!" Sandal pointed out.

Anders noticed it again, the golden aura around Justice, and wondered where it came from, or more importantly, what caused it to flare. "Yes, there are a few of us who do that, I guess," he said, shrugging.

And, because the buttons and ties seemed to confuse Justice, Anders helped him pull it on, and tied it up. It was a shirt to be worn under a fancy doublet, and the cloth was made from fine white silk, embroidered with a swirling pattern of gold. It matched his hair and the aura around him nicely, the latter of which dulled before disappearing.

"I like him!"

"I like you as well," Justice replied.

Sandal laughed and waved good-bye before leaving the room. Orana dodged him, carrying in a large tray. Justice stood at once to help her.

"No, no! It's fine," she assured him. "This is what I do. This is what Master Hawke pays me for. I have to do it."

"But you shouldn't carry such a heavy-"

"Justice, it's fine. Orana is much stronger than she looks. Please sit."

"Talking to yourself again?" came a voice from the doorway. "Anders, you really ought to stop-"

Anders sat up straight at once, lips pursed, cheeks burning. Hawke was there, wearing a loosely tied dressing gown over his pajamas, and he was staring directly at Justice.


	4. Chapter 4

"So you used the potion."

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me."

"…No."

"And now Justice is a human."

"Best I can figure."

Hawke sat across from Anders, but he kept his eye on Justice, who was eating with gusto. Anders was reminded of his own conscription in to the Wardens, the constant hunger. Justice never had a body that needed to eat or sleep, and he was learning how to do both. Rather awkwardly. For a soldier, he was lacking the dexterity it took to use a knife and fork, and Anders found himself cutting sausages and buttering toast for both himself and Justice. He adjusted Justice's grip on the fork without comment, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"So what are you planning on doing with him?"

"Doing with him? Hawke, he's not a pet. He's a person." Anders sighed. "Continue on as best we can. He was supposed to go back to the Fade, but I'm not sure what I did wrong with the potion. Or if this was supposed to happen. The damned translation was difficult to understand."

"Are there any more of… these?" Justice asked, reaching across to Anders' plate and holding up a slice of bacon.

"Bacon," Anders informed him, tipping the contents of his plate on Justice's. "Here."

"…Thank you."

Hawke sighed. "Is that what he looked like before? In the Fade when you met him?"

Anders shook his head. "He was in full plate armor. We never saw his face. And Kristoff, well…" He'd told the story to Hawke before. "As far as I can tell, he's chosen his own physical manifestation."

"He couldn't have chosen to look less…"

"Less what?"

"Pretty."

Justice stopped eating, swallowed, and glared at Hawke. "Perhaps you could change your own face, so that we are spared the abuses of having to gaze upon your unfortunate visage."

"Say that again!" Hawke shouted, getting to his feet.

Justice stood slowly, Anders heaving a sigh before he reached up to tug him back down.

"Can we lower the testosterone in the room just a tic? I'd rather not deal with this right now."

Justice, glowering, sat heavily and continued to eat. Hawke took his seat again but only after standing for a few more seconds, as if he wanted to make sure Justice knew who the alpha dog was. Justice, it seemed, did not care. Anders groaned.

"Hawke, we could use his talents. He's a capable warrior. Please." He sighed again. "Do you have any weapons? Extra ones, I mean, a sword or something similar lying about? And… pants. Boots. I'll pay you back."

Hawke waved a hand. "I'll come by the clinic later," he muttered. "You don't need to pay me back, Anders. That's what friends are for."

Anders smiled, and realized that Justice was looking at him. Very closely. In fact, Justice leaned forward, almost hanging over him. "Er. Justice?"

"I like it when you smile."

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. Well. I suppose I don't do it as often as I should. Could you…" He pressed a hand to Justice's chest and pushed him back a little. "There." It was easier to think when Justice wasn't within kissing distance.

"Anders," Hawke said, "a word. In private."

Well. Shit. "All right," he agreed. "I'll be right back," he told Justice. "Ask Orana if you need anything else, coffee or more bacon." He followed Hawke out of the dining room, into the hall. "Look-"

"Is he dangerous?"

"What?" Anders asked, laughing. Out of all the questions he thought Hawke could possibly ask, that was definitely not one of them. "No. Well, not like he was… before. When he was in me." Maker, he needed to find a different way to phrase that. "He's wholly human. Mostly. He does, hm. Glow? A bit. Like an aura around him, but it's subtle. I expect it's whatever spirit-like power he has left. He's not a mage," he added.

"But he won't… go all blue and angry."

"No, I don't think so. I gave him a full examination – What?"

Hawke's eyebrow went up again, a smirk on his lips.

Anders scowled. "A medical examination, Hawke. Don't be an ass, I know it's your specialty. He's got all the proper vital signs of a human, he can't cast spells. He sleeps and eats like any normal-"

"What?" Hawke asked when Anders broke off.

Anders shook his head. "Hygiene."

It took Hawke a moment to realize. "What? Oh, eugh, Anders."

Anders sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am aware of how the human digestive tract works," Justice said, appearing suddenly behind Anders. "You were gone for a long time."

Anders turned, looking at him incredulously. "I was barely two minutes."

"Regardless, I can handle all the basic human functions. I'm not a child. I've seen you work in the clinic and I've been with you when you've taken care of your own needs."

Anders blushed bright red, cursing his pale complexion. "Yes. Thank you, Justice."

Justice looked at Hawke. "Where are your facilities?"

Hawke, looking thoroughly amused, waved a hand. "Up the stairs and to the left."

Justice turned back to Anders. "You will wait here."

Hawke watched him leave, and when he was out of earshot, started to laugh. "'You will wait here'," he said, mocking. "Seems instead of Justice being a pet, he's made you into his."

"Stop it," Anders snapped. "Just stop it. This is difficult enough."

"I'm sorry," Hawke said, dramatically wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "You expect this battle-hardened warrior and instead you end up having to be his nanny."

"We'll see if you say that after we bring him on whatever outing you drag us to next. I bet Justice proves more capable than either Aveline or Fenris." And wouldn't that be fantastic? Traveling with Hawke without having to deal with Aveline's self-righteous mouth or listening to Fenris's vitriol about mages. But he knew he was fooling himself. Hawke would never neglect bringing any of his friends when he traveled. It was just a matter of their availability, and while Aveline was busy with her Guard Captain duties, Fenris was always free.

"We'll see," Hawke said. "I wouldn't mind having another blade on the road. Does he play cards?"

Anders scoffed. "Doubtful."

"The facilities were adequate," Justice said graciously, returning.

"If you've plugged up my plumbing…" Hawke sighed.

"I should open the clinic," Anders said, before an argument could start about something wholly unsavory. "I thought I would need a week but I'm feeling… better."

"Must be nice not having a spirit dragging down your soul."

Anders looked at Justice, seeing that hurt look in his eye. "It's not better," Anders said quickly. "Just different." He looked back to Hawke. "You'll send down clothing? And a sword?"

Hawke nodded. "I promise. I might need you later tonight. Come by the Hanged Man?"

Anders hesitated, but he couldn't think of a single reason to decline, especially when Hawke was being so generous. "We'll be there."

"Good. Dinner's on me. Come hungry." He turned and walked away.

Anders felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up at Justice. "All right?"

"I… yes. I just… it feels better to touch you. Easier."

Anders wondered if it was a side effect of the separation. Probably something that would fade in time. "Well, let's head back down. We still might have patients to look after."


	5. Chapter 5

Having Justice around the clinic wasn't bad, exactly. The morning was slow, only a few patients coming in tentatively, relieved to see the doors open and the lanterns lit. At first Anders was able to work quickly, adjusting his magic accordingly. It was different without Justice inside him – attached to him. His soul. The power Justice provided was still there, but if he had to describe it, it was like using a different tool for the job. A sledgehammer would get the job done as well as a cudgel. Before Justice, though he could barely remember, he had less mana reserves, always having to push harder to achieve the same results as during his possession. Now he had the power of that possession, but it was definitely… different.

"Do you need another bandage?" Justice asked, standing behind Anders, holding out a cloth.

Hawke had done as he promised, sending down three outfits for Justice, a pair of sturdy boots, a shining broadsword and a wooden shield. Anders helped Justice dress, trying very hard not to look at his nether regions as he did so, and let him practice with the sword and shield in the corner of the clinic. But twenty minutes later, Justice had wandered over to him, thankfully leaving the weapons behind. He sat quietly, watching him work, but every few minutes would inch closer, until their knees were touching.

He set him to washing and hanging linens, tearing up the ripped ones for bandages. And now, washing done, he was helping. Or "helping" as he wasn't sure what to do, perhaps too used to sitting quietly inside Anders – Maker, that was going to get old – while Anders worked. Anders sighed and took the cloth from him.

"Sit down. You're terrifying the patients."

"I am doing no such thing."

"A new volunteer?" the old woman asked. She coughed into her handkerchief, a smattering of blood against the white.

"Something like that," Anders replied, pleased when Justice sat, though he was a bit too close. "Have you been taking that potion I made for you? Twice a day?"

"Yes, the cough has lessened."

"All right, we're going to adjust the formula a little. You'll have to take it easy for a bit. Let your son take care of your wares."

The woman waved a hand dismissively. "I can sit in a merchant's stall."

Anders sighed. "I want you to get better. I'll send someone along with that potion. Please rest," he urged, and helped her off the cot.

She patted his arm and took up her cane, limping off.

"She did not seem grateful for your assistance. Not that you should perform these acts for gratitude, but because it's right."

Anders turned to Justice, tapping himself on the nose. "People want to think they know better. Especially when it comes to their own sickness." He rolled his sleeves up and walked to the wash basin in the corner of the clinic. "So I'll adjust her evening potion to make sure she sleeps better, and give her son the message that she needs to rest. He's a good kid. He'll listen." He scrubbed his hands and arms, drying them on a towel before turning around.

And came face to face, or face to chest as it were, with Justice. If it were anyone else, Anders would panic. Being pinned against anything, even a wash basin in his own clinic, was not his favorite position. His fight-or-flight instinct usually kicked into overdrive and he would lash out. Usually that's when Justice came out, Hawke having to talk him down from it. Instead, he placed a palm against Justice's chest, fingers splayed against the silken fabric of his borrowed shirt.

"Too close," Anders whispered.

"Apologies." But Justice didn't move. "I… dislike when you move away from me."

"So you've said," Anders whispered. But the close proximity was having an effect. There was a familiarity about Justice, his voice, the way he moved, the way he _felt_. And why wouldn't there be? They'd known one another for years, intimately, as close as two people – well, one person and one spirit – could get.

Justice covered his hand with his own larger one. "It is… unusual to have a heartbeat," he said. "I feel it quicken when I'm near you. Is that normal?"

Anders swallowed hard, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "I suppose it is."

Justice reached up suddenly and pressed his free hand to Anders' chest. "Yours is beating quickly as well. What does it mean? I felt it before when we were together. When you fought. When you cast magic. Panic? Is that the word for it? Am I feeling panic?"

"No," Anders laughed lightly. "No, not panic. I don't think there's a word for this." How could he put it into words when he, himself, had no idea what he was feeling? It was almost the same he felt for Hawke, but he long gave up any notion of romance involving him. There was no way for it to work, not when he had his clinic, his cause. He couldn't think of starting a relationship with anyone, not when the mage underground needed him. It was too dangerous. But Justice knew all his secrets, his quirks, his shortcomings. And he didn't fault him for them. "We should get ready to go to the Hanged Man," he whispered.

"He wants to embarrass me," Justice said, not dropping either hand. "He doesn't like me. He is a distraction. They all are."

"They're my friends. Well. Some of them," Anders corrected. "I'm sure he just wants to beat you in cards. After a few rounds we'll come home and I promise I'll write."

"I will help," Justice said, sounding excited at the prospect. "I may not be the best at holding a small instrument but I can speak."

"Yes. All right." Anders pushed Justice back slightly so he could cross the clinic to douse the lanterns. Unsurprisingly, Justice followed at his heels like an overeager puppy. Instead of finding it annoying, however, Anders found it endearing. There was just one thing. "When we go to the Hanged Man," he said, turning to find Justice mere inches away once more, "you may want to not… hover."

"Hover? I do not float."

"No, I mean… you're very close."

Justice tilted his head slightly, and Anders, unable to help himself, reached up, running his fingers through his hair. Justice's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into the touch.

"Never mind," Anders sighed, smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite his appearance, Justice blended in with the crowd in the Hanged Man. The clothing Hawke sent down wasn't too rich-looking, and the only thing that really made Justice stand out was the aura he projected. Thankfully it was late and most of the patrons were too drunk to notice, or were used enough to the odd sorts that stumbled into the tavern. Scanning the room, not seeing Hawke and the others, Anders weaved through the crowd toward the stairs, letting Justice clutch his shirt sleeve as he did so. Varric's door was half-opened and he knocked briefly before pushing in.

"Blondie, hey!" Varric said, laughing as he waved him in.

Anders smiled quickly, looking around. Isabela, Merrill, Hawke, and – to his annoyance – Fenris and Sebastian had both shown up. They were mid-card game, and the wine and ale were flowing. But so were the bowls of stew and loaves of bread. He felt his stomach growl, and knew Justice was hungry as well.

_Serves him right for all the times he made me skip out._

He quashed that ungrateful thought and took up a seat next to Hawke. Justice settled next to him, Sebastian scooting his own chair over to make room.

"I… take it Hawke's already told you all what happened," Anders said tersely.

Hawke poured two glasses of wine and dished out bowls of stew for them. "I did."

"Did you really manage to separate yourself?" Merrill said, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. "And this is really Justice? So fascinating!"

Justice looked like a scared rabbit, ready to dart, distinctly uncomfortable with everyone staring at him.

"Mm. I didn't realize Justice was so… attractive," Isabela purred.

Anders scowled. "Considering how often you do the easy thing instead of the right thing, I'm not surprised you're unfamiliar with justice."

"Someone's jealous," Isabela muttered, taking a swig of ale.

Fenris threw his cards down. "I'll see you in the morning, Hawke," he said, irritated.

"Oh come on!" Hawke said. "Look, we won't even talk about the plight of mages tonight."

"Mages deserve to be free," Justice piped up.

Fenris scowled, glaring at Hawke. "Tomorrow if you've need of me," he said, and stalked out.

"More ornery than usual tonight," Anders noted.

"I… believe I'll take my leave as well," Sebastian said. "I'm sorry, Hawke, but there's something…" He shook his head. "It's unnatural to take a spirit into your soul in the first place, but this is not the place to preach about the Maker's will. Anders, my door is always open to you if you wished to give confession."

"And what," Anders said coolly, "would I have to confess to you?"

Sebastian nodded. "I thought as much. Good night."

"Sure know how to clear a room, Blondie," Varric said, tossing a card down.

"It's not my fault you keep company with close-minded bigots and Chantry oppressors," Anders said, shifting in his seat. "Justice, eat. It's fine."

Justice started to eat slowly, but was very aware of both Merrill and Isabela watching him. He turned toward Anders, knee pressed against his.

Anders ate as well, listening to the idle conversation that started again. Merrill spoke about her latest adventures in the alienage, while Hawke and Isabela discussed a recent haul of treasure. They played cards, though Anders and Justice managed to decline at least while they finished their stew, and Varric told a quick anecdote about a shipment of Orlesian silk panties that went wayward.

"Were they recovered?" Justice asked over the laughter. "Did the original buyer receive them? Or compensation?"

"Ah," Varric said, his laughter cut short. "I… couldn't say."

Justice frowned. "He should be reimbursed. Or given his original product."

"…Way to kill the joke there, Sparky."

"You may refer to me as Justice, as Anders does. It is not a name but my purpose."

"We're aware."

Anders scowled. "We should go."

Hawke looked at him pleadingly. "Oh come on. You just got here."

"Yes, are you really going to eat and run?" Isabela said, tossing a card down. "You haven't even played a hand."

"You should try the wine," Merrill said. "It's a new import from Antiva! Varric's very excited to share it, aren't you, Varric?"

"Oh Daisy, I don't think Sparky drinks."

Justice leaned close to Anders, their arms touching now. "Are you going to drink?"

Anders laughed. "It's been a very long time since I've gotten drunk. Remember? You hated it."

"…it lowers your inhibitions. It makes you forget your purpose. It is the beginnings of sloth. But one drink would be acceptable. Then we should return to the clinic and attend our duties."

"Maker, he's like an overbearing parent," Varric muttered.

"He's not that bad," Merrill said defensively. "It's his purpose, Varric. He's a crusader for the oppressed, righting the wrong of the world, right?"

Justice sat up a little straighter. "That's correct."

"He's also dreadfully boring," Isabela said. "Even if he is nice to look at."

"There is beauty in Justice," Justice said, though his tone indicated he did not mean to compliment himself. "I may have a simplistic nature, but it… it is what I am."

"No one's faulting you for that," Anders said, glaring in both Varric and Isabela's directions. "No I think we'll skip the drink."

"Anders-" Hawke started to protest.

"No, Hawke. Really. We have a lot of work to do."

"He turned you into a carbon copy of himself," Isabela said airily.

Anders gritted his teeth and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hawke."

Justice was on his feet in a second, trailing him out. Once outside, Justice touched his shoulder. "Did I upset your friends?"

"No. They're always like that," Anders sighed, shoving his hands into his coat as they walked through the alleys of Lowtown.

"…Did I upset you?"

Anders stopped, laughing as Justice banged into him. He turned around and looked up. "No, Justice. I… it's been a long time since I've been unpossessed. And I thought… I thought it would be better. Even if you weren't here, even if you were in the Fade, I think that I would miss you."

"Miss me."

"The feeling that you get when I walk out of a room. The… the dislike that you feel when we're not together."

"I'm aware of it. You felt it for others. Others you've met and lost. In your mind and your heart. I can't feel that anymore," Justice said sadly. "I… miss feeling you."

Anders laughed again. "Oh Maker, if you were aware of innuendo… Come on. We have work to do."

Justice followed him back to the clinic.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't see much of Hawke or the others over the next two weeks. Justice proved invaluable in the clinic once he learned how to dress wounds properly and mix potions. In the evenings they wrote together, talking, having proper conversations about what needed to be done to free the mages. It was like when they were back in the Wardens together, but better. Here there were no other Wardens to interrupt their conversations. There were no templars always watching him, making sure he didn't do something foolish like have thoughts about his own freedom. He was more comfortable with Justice than he'd been with almost anyone, inside the Circle or out. Justice made him feel not so alone anymore. But he missed him, the swirl of feeling in his chest that he'd gotten used to, or even the mild headaches when Justice was annoyed or didn't understand.

Justice still didn't understand, the concept of time a foreign thing to him. Anders helped him regulate his sleeping and waking patterns, and when it was time to eat or time to move from one activity to another. Adjusting to human life was frustrating for Justice, and while he still had the drive to do right (which translated into an unerring sense of nobility), he also had human emotions as well. Compassion and empathy were easy, but anger, rage, and sadness were completely foreign. Anders talked him through it one night when they lost a patient, the old woman who'd come to see him about her cough. She died, and Justice wept, unable to control himself. Anders, who'd been sleeping on another cot, giving Justice his own, ended up holding him that night as they curled together on the clinic floor.

"I've come up with a solution," Justice said one evening.

Anders had largely been ignoring him that day, not on purpose, but because there was so much to be done. He met with Selby about the mage underground, passed four different messages, accepted a delivery of food and supplies – largely thanks to Hawke's generosity – and spent the afternoon tending patients and cleaning up. Justice kept himself busy, and perhaps Anders should have been paying more attention to him.

"Solution to what?" Anders asked, closing one of the clinic doors. He doused the lanterns.

"Leave that one open," Justice said, almost giddy, and Anders was suddenly worried. "We're getting a delivery."

"Delivery?"

And four dwarves came up the stairs to the landing outside his clinic, carrying all sorts of odd-looking supplies. Anders stepped aside to let them in.

"I… Justice, what is this? Hey, what are you doing?"

The dwarves carried the supplies to his partitioned-off room and worked quickly. The cot was thrown out, the makeshift walls moved and rebuilt. In less than fifteen minutes they were done. Justice thanked each of them as they left.

"Now you may close the door," Justice said. "Or… I will," he added as Anders walked to the back of the clinic.

His room was larger now, with higher walls that seemed sturdier than they'd been. The dwarves hadn't moved his desk, but in place of the uncomfortable slim cot was a proper bed with a mattress, big enough to comfortably sleep two.

Justice came up behind him, having locked the door. "I thought it wasn't right that you sleep on the floor or an exam table while I use the cot. I spoke with Hawke and he agreed, though he found it amusing. I'm not sure why."

Anders knew. He sighed, turning to Justice. "Because Hawke is crude."

"Crude? Not polished?"

Anders laughed. "Yes that's one way of putting it. He thinks that we're… sleeping together."

Justice tilted his head. "We are."

"No. Ah. Sex," Anders said, figuring it was best to be blunt with a spirit who took most things literally.

Justice frowned.

"…Sorry."

"No, it's not that," Justice said, taking Anders' hand and pressing it to his chest. "When you said that, my heart… it sped up again. Do you feel it?"

Anders nodded, nervous. Justice put his own hand over Anders' chest.

"Yours is as well. I have learned a lot about human emotion in our time together. But I've never… felt before."

"Felt?" Anders breathed.

"Say it again."

"Hm?"

"Sex," Justice said, and his eyes opened wide. "Remarkable how fast yours is beating."

Anders blushed. "Yes, well. I… Uh. It's been a long time since…"

"Since sex."

"Please stop saying sex."

"Do you want to?"

"Sorry?" Anders squeaked.

Justice looked down at him, the soft golden aura radiating off his skin. "Sex. With me."

Oh. Oh _Maker_ what a question. If Justice had asked him that years ago, he would have said no straight away. Kristoff's corpse was already rotting and by the time he and Justice joined, he was barely sinew and bones. When they joined, any kind of physical pleasure was never made a priority. He could have slept with a whore if he needed to, though he never did, and he could count on his hand how many times he _used_ his hand in the ensuing years.

"Your heart is racing," Justice whispered, leaning down, lips so very close to Anders'.

"That happens when I get propositioned, I guess," Anders said, eyes flicking from Justice's down to his lips. "I…"

"I would like to, I think. I cannot _feel_ you, Anders. I miss you."

Anders closed his eyes and nodded, gasping when Justice kissed him. It was sloppy, amateurish, and Anders loved it at once, arms wrapping around Justice's neck. Strong hands rested at the small of his back and they stood like that for a time, Anders slowly teaching Justice how to kiss, how their mouths fit together, the swipe of a tongue against lips, then inside. Justice broke off, looking down at himself.

"I…"

"It's normal," Anders assured him, breathless. "Blood rushes through your nerves."

"And you?"

Anders blushed, realizing Justice was looking at his crotch now. "Yes. Very much so."

"Shall we go to the bed? And… I expect… take off our clothes?"

It was the most awkward, adorable, and sexy seduction Anders had ever been on the receiving end of. He walked backward, pulling Justice into the room. Justice frowned but reached out to unclasp Anders' coat.

"Is it all right if I-"

"Yes," Anders agreed at once.

He was patient as Justice slowly removed his clothes, managing the buckles and ties much easier now than he would have two weeks ago. Anders lifted his arms for them, then stood, bare-chested, waiting.

"You have so many scars," Justice said sadly, tracing them with his fingers.

"It's all right," Anders said, taking his hand, bringing it to his lips.

"You've suffered."

"Everyone suffers at some point," Anders said, leaning down, untying his boots and pulling them off. "We're going to do what we can to make it better."

"My heart is beating faster again."

Anders smiled. "I'm not surprised you get off on the idea of improving the world."

"That… was a joke?"

Anders laughed. "Partly. Kiss me again."

Justice did, and Anders worked the ties of his own trousers, pushing them down over his hips, stepping out, and when the kiss ended, he was completely naked.

"It's not fair," Anders said, "that you're still fully clothed." He shivered as Justice's deep blue eyes raked over his body. His expression was devoid of sadness now, replaced by wanting. "Do… you like it?"

Justice let his fingertips drift from his shoulder, down his chest, over a nipple. Anders' eyes fluttered closed. But Justice didn't stop, touching his stomach, his hip, thigh, and finally back up, ghosting over his erection.

"Oh," Anders whispered.

"I… know humans can do many things when it comes to sex. With their mouths."

"Maker," Anders groaned. "Let's… one thing at a time."

"I want to make you feel how you make me feel. The pinnacle of a spirit's pleasure is succeeding in its purpose. For a human, that pleasure can be more carnal. More base. I can give that to you."

Definitely the most awkward seduction. But Anders shivered at his words. "I know. But I want both of us to reach that. Together."

"Together."

Anders started to undress Justice, pleased when Justice let him take over. He stepped out of his boots, and Anders eagerly pulled his leather pants down. He saw Justice naked when they first separated, even watched him bathe once, though felt slightly guilty for it after. Neither of those moments compared to this. Justice, standing tall and proud, erection jutting out from a thatch of dark blond curls. Anders nearly went back on his promise to himself, wanting to drop to his knees and take him into his mouth, to taste him.

"Tell me what you think," Justice pleaded. "I can't hear your thoughts."

"I think you're beautiful," Anders said, finally taking his eyes off Justice's cock. "You're perfect. Everything is perfect."

"I am human now," Justice said. "That makes me flawed by nature."

"It doesn't matter to me. I love your flaws. I love… you." It sounded strange to admit it, over a decade since he'd said those words to another in a moment of impassioned youth.

"I believe that's what I'm feeling also," Justice said, smiling. "Is that… human?"

"It's the _most_ human thing," Anders agreed.

He moved back to the bed, pulling Justice with him, and laid down. Justice was careful, gentle as he lay over top of him. They kissed again, Justice gasping suddenly when their cocks brushed against one another.

"It's so… I feel…"

"Just feel," Anders assured him. "Everything is right. Everything is as it should be."

" _We_ are right," Justice said, slowly thrusting his hips, gasping again as he chased the feeling. "Together, you and I. We're right."

"Yes," Anders agreed. "Maker, yes, Justice."

Anders pulled him down again for a kiss, broken by his whimpers and Justice's quiet noises of satisfaction as he continued in that torturously slow movement, dragging their cocks together, his hips never moving faster, until Anders thought he would die from the teasing.

"That… that feels very good," Justice said. "What do we do next?"

Anders took his hand. "You put it inside me."

"Won't it hurt?"

"Very little. Here." He called up a grease spell, Justice's palm and fingers coated. "Start with one finger." He lifted a knee to his chest. "It's been awhile since I've done this. Go slow."

"I will," Justice promised. "I don't want to hurt you."

"It's okay," Anders assured him, guiding his hand lower.

Anders closed his eyes, head tilted back a little, a strangled cry escaping his throat as Justice pushed a finger inside him. He shivered, the familiar yet foreign feeling of being prepared for penetration. He preferred it, this position, when he was in the Circle. It had been so long.

"Another," Anders urged him.

Justice kissed him first, Anders pleased and happy to return it, sighing contently as Justice peppered his neck and cheek with little kisses after. It seemed he was starting to learn, to move on to feeling rather than instinct and instruction. They stayed that way for a time, Justice working his fingers in and out of him. Anders felt Justice's thick cock against his thigh, and begged for another finger, just to get used to the feeling, knowing even that might not be enough. He called up more grease before he was sure he would be unable to cast, already close to being out of his mind with pleasure.

"Use it for yourself. Lubrication for you."

"Next time," Justice said, doing as he was told, "I would use my mouth on you."

"Sweet Maker," Anders breathed. "You are so bloody perfect." A willing, attentive lover, someone who cared about the mages as much as he did, someone who would fight for them, someone who loved him, who knew him better than perhaps he knew himself. It was too much. Did he deserve it? Justice knew what he would have to do, the sacrifices he would make, even if it meant giving up his own life. He didn't have to explain it.

"I want to be in you," Justice said, looking down at him.

Anders nodded, legs spreading. Justice moved to a kneeling position between them. Drawing his knees back, giving Justice more room, Anders waited. Fingers were removed, Anders missing them at once, thinking he could let Justice finger-fuck him all night and he would be satisfied. But then the head of Justice's cock was there, pushing into him. He winced, a slight burning.

"Tell me what you feel," Justice urged, slightly breathless.

"A little pain," Anders admitted. "Maker, you're huge. Keep going." Justice did, and Anders was sure he looked ridiculous, mouth open, eyes tightly shut, panting. "Oh… oh Maker, Justice. Fuck. More… a little more."

"It's so… so warm," Justice panted. "So warm and tight. It feels amazing, Anders, you feel amazing. You're beautiful." Quiet for a moment as they adjusted, just the sounds of their heavy breathing. "I'm in."

Anders looked down. Justice was buried to the hilt. His own cock ached, hard, begging to be touched. He squeezed around him, trying not to laugh as Justice's eyes widened.

"My… Anders that, oh… ngh…"

"You can swear if it helps," Anders laughed. "Push your hips forward a little, if the angle is – AH!"

Justice found his prostate, a shiver of pleasure coursing through every nerve in his body.

"Please bloody _move_ ," Anders ground out, gripping the mattress. "Thrust. Move. Fuck me, Justice. Fuck me now!"

Justice thankfully did not belabor the request by asking more questions. Anders' patience could only hold out so far. Strong, powerful hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and Justice started to thrust. Slow at first, but only for a moment, neither able to hold on for much longer. Anders wished he could've said he participated more, that he helped, but he couldn't. He brought his knees to his chest, allowing Justice to fuck him faster, deeper, the sounds of grunting, groaning, flesh slapping against flesh.

Justice reached up, grabbing the sturdy wooden headboard for leverage and Anders thanked the Maker for dwarven construction as he was bent nearly in half, Justice thrusting hard and fast inside him. Anders fisted his own cock, stroking quickly, the dual sensation too much for him. Oversensitive, too long since he had a prick buried inside him, and the fact that it belonged to Justice, surreal and amazing, Anders came hard, his seed covering his stomach and chest, warm sticky fluid over his fingers. Justice gave two more deep thrusts and shuddered, mouth open in a silent cry, eyes shut.

"Beautiful," Anders whispered in his post-orgasmic bliss as he watched Justice come.

Justice panted, eyes still closed, looking pained. "Anders," he whimpered. "Anders I…"

"Shh, love," Anders reached up, fingers of his clean hand ghosting over his cheek. "Shh. I've got you. It's okay." How long had it been since he had his first ever orgasm? He was just a teenager discovering how his own body worked, and wanted to share the feeling with another. Justice, never having had his own body or even his own desires, it must have felt wonderful. Wonderful, but terrifying.

"I… it felt. I felt," Justice tried again, opening his eyes, which were glassy, tears of overwhelming emotion. "That was better than anything I have ever experienced."

If Anders had feathers, he would have preened. "And that was only the first one," he said, smirking. "Slowly when you ease out."

Justice gasped, shivering again when he pulled out. He sat back, hand splayed on the mattress, holding himself up. He looked down at himself, then to Anders.

"If you can walk," Anders said, "a cloth wouldn't go amiss. It gets sticky and itchy when it dries."

Justice swallowed, nodded and stood, nearly falling over as he took a step.

"Easy!" Anders warned.

"I… I am fine," Justice said, a little unsettled. He picked up a bandage from the pile of cloth. "Will this…"

"Yes, get it wet."

Justice did as he was told and returned to the bed, sitting down, and started carefully cleaning Anders off.

"You don't have to do that. I could-"

"I want to," Justice said, smiling. "You can do it next time."

"Next time," Anders breathed. He lay back, nearly purring as Justice meticulously cleaned him off.

That finished, Anders moved over in the large bed, lifting the covers for Justice to slide in next to him.

"And now… I hold you," Justice said, somewhat uncertainly.

"Unless you prefer I hold you. Or neither," Anders said, yawning. "I like being held." He missed it, and smiled when Justice pulled him close. He rested his head on Justice's muscled shoulder. "Mm."

"Anders."

"Yes?"

"Is this an acceptable distraction? Can we… can we afford this? It won't interfere with our work?"

Anders pressed a kiss to his warm skin. "I promise. No sex until our daily work is done," he said, yawning again. Though he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise with how good it was, and how content he felt.

"That's acceptable."

Anders laughed. "Good night, Justice."

"Good night, Anders."

Anders fell asleep, happy and sated in Justice's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleasant little distraction for me while I finished up writing Part 3 of Ascension. Very fun prompt. Hope you guys enjoyed it! :)


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